


Night Life

by magnificentmay



Category: Night at the Museum (2006 2009)
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Lives, Traumatic Experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:17:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentmay/pseuds/magnificentmay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Larry has dealing with the museum's inhabitants down to a science—almost.  The night watchman is beginning to discover that the exhibits' past lives aren't as straightforward as their museum plaques might lead one to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm May, SaggitariusQuill on FF.net, and I don't own anything, of course. R&R!

As night watchman, Larry Daley was in charge of overseeing the wellbeing of all the exhibits in the museum. So Ahkmenrah's odd behavior did not go overlooked.

Truth be told, Larry didn't actually know if this was "odd behavior" that the young pharaoh was displaying, or if it was simply how he normally acted. He doubted it. Though he'd never met any sort of king before meeting the pharaoh, the night guard still couldn't see one acting as shy, quiet, and reserved as Ahkmenrah did. He kept to himself, never asked anyone for anything, and when not in his exhibit, he played the part of smiley observer, never interfering with whatever the others were doing and rarely speaking. He never started any of the conversation, either, but always spoke when spoken to, very briefly, but not disrespectfully, and with a plastered-on smile a blind man could see through. 

With a few minutes until sunset, Larry went about completing the few tasks he'd learned needed to be done before the Tablet brought everything to life: unlocking the newly installed glass door to Sacagawea's exhibit, sliding the bolts out of Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus, replacing the batteries in the "bone-mobile," and moving the fire extinguisher closer to the Neanderthal exhibit. 

Larry sat at the information desk watching the sun disappear behind the cityscape. As soon as Rexy began to move, the night watchman leapt to his feet, marching off toward the Egyptian exhibit.

"Lawrence!" Larry heard the 26th President sheathing his sword and dropping down from faithful Texas. "Where are you off to in such a rush?"

Larry turned to him a moment, walking backward with a barely slowed pace. 

"I need to go see Ahkmenrah. Do you think you could do a quick run-through in the Hall of Miniatures, just make sure no one's fallen off their dioramas or anything?"

Teddy smiled warmly, tipping his head slightly. "Of course, my dear boy! Anything I can do to assist."

"Thanks, Teddy, I shouldn't be too long." He wasn't really sure how long he was going to be, actually.

Larry soon found himself rounding the corner toward the young king's exhibit. He was surprised to find that he was actually quite nervous. He shouldn't be, he was only going to talk with Ahkmenrah, like he had done many times before, and give him some generic reassurances. Probably apologize for the umpteenth time for the young pharaoh being locked up as long as he was, even if it wasn't his fault. He did vaguely remember number eighteen or nineteen on his to-do-and-to-don't list being "don't let the mummy out." Ahkmenrah had proven himself to be a calm and level-headed person with much more self-control than some of the museum's always free-roaming inhabitants. The night guard wondered what had made Cecil and the other former watchmen keep him locked up for as long as they did. 

Well, there was the screaming and banging that could be heard all the way down the corridor; Larry remembered it quite well from when Teddy first brought him to the pharaoh's exhibit room to show him the Tablet on his first night in the job. That might have been enough to scare them off. 

The sense of foreboding couldn't be shaken as Larry called into previously mentioned room, not wanting to disturb the king if he was getting dressed. His robes and crown had their own display case. 

"Hey, Ahkmenrah?"

Immediately, the two stone jackals pointed their ever-sharpened stone spears at the night watchmen. He didn't think Ahkmenrah's guards would ever grow to like him. 

"Um, Ahk?"

A sharp order barked in Egyptian from the other end of the room made them back off. Ahkmenrah walked into view, dressed and placing his crown on his head. 

"Sorry about that, Larry, they haven't yet learned that you aren't a grave robber." The pharaoh gave him one of his well-practiced and overused fake-smiles. The one Larry gave back wasn't even sort of real, either. 

"Hey Ahkmenrah, I wanted to catch you before you before you left your room. I've been meaning to talk to you."

The same look Nicky gave him whenever he was told the same thing crossed the Egyptian's tanned face. The "oh shit, what did I do?" face, coupled with a brief mind-wracking for whatever wrongdoing he might have done. It slipped quickly back into his fake-smile, however, as if the uncertainty had never been there.

"Alright," Ahkmenrah said, folding his hands together. "What is it that you wish to speak with me about?"

Larry ran a hand through his hair, collecting his thoughts. "Are you ... how are you doing here?"

The young king looked puzzled for a moment. "How am I doing ...?"

"At the museum." This wasn't going well. Next time, Larry was bringing cue cards.

Ahkmenrah blinked. "I am ... I am doing well."

"Oh. Okay, yeah."

"Thank you for asking."

"Yeah, of course." 

An awkward silence fell over the pair. This wasn't going well at all. In fact, Larry wasn't sure where this was even supposed to be going. 

"Is that," the Egyptian asked, "all you wished to know?"

"Uh, no." Larry took a moment to find his words. "How have you been getting along with the others?"

Ahkmenrah wasn't sure why he was being interrogated. He didn't think he'd done anything wrong, but if Larry was asking him if he got along with the other exhibits, it might mean one of them was complaining about him. Or more. He had to pick his words wisely, the night guard was the one with the bolts to his sarcophagus. 

"I believe," the King cleared his suddenly tight throat, "I've gotten along just fine with everyone."

The use of the word "fine" wasn't lost on Larry. No one who was actually fine described themselves as "fine."

"Really?" Larry fought not to winced at his own choice of word. He looked up at Ahkmenrah, but the Pharaoh's face was unreadable.

"Erm, yes. Is everything alright, Larry?"

The night watchmen let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He ran his hand through his hair again, now aware that he didn't know how many times he had done that. He knew his nervous behavior was making Ahkmenrah nervous, as well, but he just couldn't help it. The Pharaoh was trying his damnedest to show the semblance of openness, if not the real thing, yet Larry still felt as though he was walking on thin ice. The foreboding refused to dissipate. 

"I ... I don't know, Ahk. Is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"For you. Is everything okay for you? Because I feel like it isn't."

Ahkmenrah opened his mouth the speak three times in a row but shut it back each time. With a small, frustrated puff, he spoke again. "I don't understand, Larry."

"I just feel," Larry said, gaining momentum, "like you don't act like yourself around us. Me and the rest of the museum, I mean. It's like you're afraid that you're gonna do something wrong and upset us. Which isn't gonna happen. You can come and talk to us, we aren't going to punish you for speaking t—"

Larry stopped suddenly. Ahkmenrah's blue-green eyes were blown wide and his hands were balled in his golden robes, with his arms board-straight at his sides, as if he was forcing himself to stay absolutely still. 

"Ahkmenrah ..." The Egyptian's eyes became glued to something on the wall behind Larry. 

"... Y-yes?"

"We aren't going to lock you up again. That wasn't meant to be a punishment, it was a mistake. An awful, horrible mistake. But it wasn't meant to be a punishment."

"I won't do anything wrong, I-I swear it." The young king's hands were now shaking, his breath coming in pants.

"I know, Ahk, I'm not locking you up."

"You will..."

Larry was at a loss for what to do. This change came about so quickly. The usually calm pharaoh was now bodily shaking, with odd twitching, and uneven breaths. He was so terrified of messing up, saying something wrong, then being put back in the sarcophagus. The night guard didn't blame him, one night in that thing would be enough to make him claustrophobic, he couldn't imagine how severe the claustrophobia was that Ahkmenrah must suffer from. At least fifty-four years of being trapped inside a coffin ...

"Ahk, where'd you get that idea? I don't want you locked up."

But the king didn't hear him, panic overriding everything else. Tears were welling in his eyes, but he couldn't feel them. "I won't say a-anything e-else. I-I'll st-stay here. I won't m-move. I-I pr-promise." 

Please, no! By Ra, please, no! 

He'd learned his lesson before, and here he was, putting himself right back in the same place again. Only this museum was his eternal home, unlike Cambridge. It was only by chance he was finally released from the confines of the sarcophagus by Larry. If he chose to lock him back up, he may never be let out again. 

"Ahk ..." Larry was fairly certain that Ahkmenrah didn't even realize he was moving, backtracking toward the wall. 

Tears streamed down the young Egyptian's cheeks, which he was biting in an effort to remain silent, but strangled sounds still escaped his throat. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself as he shook in terror. Stumbling backwards, he tripped over his cloak, hitting the floor hard on his elbow sending sharp pangs up through his teeth and knocking his crown from his head. It clattered loudly on the paneled floor, the sound causing both Larry and Ahk to jump, but, along-with, Ahkmenrah let out a hoarse cry. 

The pharaoh all but rammed himself against the tomb's wall, curling in on himself and becoming smaller than Larry had ever seen him. Without his crown atop his head, his shoulders pressed back, standing with his well-breed regal gait, Ahkmenrah looked so lost, broken, and so ... young. Incredibly young. 

Up until that point, Larry has always assumed the king was somewhere in his twenties. Now he was certain that Ahkmenrah couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen. 

The shaken pharaoh curled himself up in his cloak, crying as softly as he could manage and trying hard to stop, though sobbing was creeping its way into his chest. He buried his face in his arms, knees curled up against his chest.

Larry felt his own tears stinging that backs of his eyes. He couldn't stand to see the--well, boy--in this way. Utterly destroyed and hopeless. Fatherly instinct took over, and, before he knew what he was doing, he had dropped to the floor next to the distraught boy and pulled him into his arms.

Ahkmenrah stiffened at the contact. Why would he ... hold him? Why? He wanted to lock him away ... wait--no, no, he didn't. 

This was Larry holding him, whispering nonsensical comforts to him, willing him to relax. Larry, who freed him from his sarcophagus every night. Larry, who always told him how glad he was to see him when he caught up to him in his museum rounds. 

The realization hit the young pharaoh quickly, that, in all his terror and rambling, Larry had done nothing but tell him that he was not going to lock him away. And all Ahkmenrah did was ... cry.

So stupid. 

And, to top it off, Ahkmenrah embarrassed himself once more and most extravagantly (and whilst now fully aware) by collapsing against the night watchman's chest and sobbing as if every dam had been broken. 

Pathetic. 

It must have been at least five minutes the pair sat there, Larry rocking them gently, before Ahkmenrah had begun to calm down. Larry just held him close, running one hand over the young king's dark-brown curls and rubbing his back with the other. 

"I'm not going to lock you up, Ahkmenrah."

The pharaoh let out a sigh, pulling reluctantly away from the night guard's embrace, feeling his face redden in embarrassment at the large damp spot he'd left behind. His eyes turned to the floor. "I know."

Larry nodded, laying a hand on the King's shoulder. "Ahk, look at me."

Ahkmenrah didn't do so immediately.

"Ahk."

Blue-green eyes peered to him, round and glassy. 

The watchmen putting a hand on each of the young king's shoulders. 

"I want you to hear this, to remember this. Okay?"

The pharaoh nodded. 

"No one here, in this museum, wants you locked up. You are one of us, a very, very important part of us. Everybody out there," he motioned in the general direction of the lobby, where most everyone congregated, "wants you here. And I want you here. Okay?"

Ahkmenrah gave him the smallest of smiles, but it was one of his rare, genuine ones. 

"Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment, both staring at their hands, lost in thought. 

Ahkmenrah wondered if anyone had heard him sobbing. They must have, but he was feeling too emotionally exhausted to even care. 

That was a lie, he did care. 

Larry was wondering something different, of course. He decide now would be a better time than any other to find out.

"Hey, Ahk?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

The king nodded. 

"What happened to ..." How could he put this lightly?

"... to turn me into a pathetic child at the thought of being locked away?" Ahkmenrah finished the thought for him, though not in the way he would have done it.

"You are not pathetic."

"But I am childish."

"A child maybe, but not childish."

Larry had to fight a smirk off his face at the unamused look on the pharaoh's.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen."

Larry shook his head incredulously. "That's just crazy."

"What's 'crazy?' Are you mocking my age again?"

"I'm sorry, I was just kidding, Ahk. I think it's crazy how you were able to manage an entire country at your age. If you gave me a country when I was eighteen, that sucker would have long been run into the ground. I can barely manage this museum."

Ahkmenrah's face lit up slightly at the compliment. "Not that I've seen, you do an impressive job here."

"You weren't around for the first two nights."

Ahkmenrah mumbled something along the lines of "yes, I was."

"I'm sorry you were stuck in there," Larry nodded toward the sarcophagus.

"It isn't your fault."

"I should have let you put two nights earlier, when I started the job."

Ahkmenrah shrugged. "After five decades, what's two more nights?"

Larry didn't agree with that statement but decide it was a discussion for another night. He tried again with his first question. 

"Why are you so afraid someone's going to lock you up again?"

Ahkmenrah brought his knees up to his chest again, resting his head on his arms. 

"I was at Cambridge, I told you, in January of 1952. I was there for nearly eleven months. It took one of the researchers only a few days to find out that the Tablet was bringing me back to life every night. He let me out of the sarcophagus, taught me English, but only under the condition that I would translate any reliefs and hieroglyphs and answer any questions he had. And I did so.

"At first, it wasn't that bad. I was let out every night, free to roam the laboratory room. The researcher had a good understanding of Egyptian language, so he was able to help me quickly learn English so that I could help him with his research. And I answered and translated what I could. 

"He began to get frustrated with me when I could no longer help him. There were just some things I didn't know. Not everything he asked of me was common knowledge. And he got angry with me when I began to ask him what life was like in the present. I'd only just awoken after four-thousand years. That's when he first started threatening to lock me away." 

Larry noticed the tremor behind Ahkmenrah's voice. He reached out and took one of the pharaoh's tanned hands in his own, earning himself a grateful half-smile.

"I was so tired of being stuck in that laboratory," Ahkmenrah continued after a beat. "I asked the researcher if I could at least just walk around the hallways on the same floor, there was no one else in the building. And he just ... he ..."

Larry was starting to understand that there was more done than Ahkmenrah just being lock away. "We can skip that part."

"Thank you, but, just ... just give me a minute."

The watchman nodded, rubbing his thumb on the back of the pharaoh's hand. 

"He hit me. Told me that ... dead people don't get to do whatever they want." He shuddered, despite himself. "I didn't want to hurt him, even if he was bigger than me, so when he made me get in the sarcophagus, I didn't argue. I assumed I was just being punished for the night. But then he wouldn't let me out again. Unless he had some use for me, then he forced me back into the sarcophagus immediately after. He started bringing a baton with him and beating me with it when I tried to fight him or really whenever I spoke about anything other than what he wanted me to, whenever I asked questions. But mostly he just left me locked up, knowing I was awake."

Larry wasn't sure what to say. This definitely explained everything perfectly, why he was so scared of messing up, always walking on eggshells around everyone. The poor kid was beaten and locked away for asking questions and having shortcomings. That was enough to drive anyone out of their minds. Yet Ahkmenrah was able to fake an aura of calm and poise, even after all he'd been through.

"No one here would ever do that," Larry said, feeling slightly like a broken record. 

The young king shrugged again, rubbing his eyes with the his free hand. 

Larry didn't like that body language. 

"Ahk, don't shut down on me now."

"You don't understand, Larry." He pulled his hand from the night guard's, his face and voice turning unexpectedly dark.

"Okay, explain to me what's going on, then."

Unbeknownst to the two at the back of the tomb, a few of the other exhibits, namely, Teddy, Sacagawea, Attila, Octavius and Jed, and Dexter, stood just out of sight on either side of the exhibit room's doorways, listening intently.

"They did keep me locked up, Larry."

"And you know that wasn't on purpo—"

"YES IT WAS!"

Larry sat back, slightly stunned at the pharaoh's outburst. But he didn't stop him from venting. Hell, he needed it.

"Every night they heard me screaming, begging in every language I know to be let out, and they just left me there, sometimes even mocked me, while they got to roam around free! Every single night! They wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for my Tablet, and they just left me in that stupid sarcophagus. I hate that thing! I hate it!" 

Angry, hurt tears began to stream down Ahkmenrah's tanned cheeks, surprising him, as he thought he was all cried out. 

"Why wouldn't they let me out? They-they said that they were told not to, that I was dangerous or something, and they just obeyed, but why? No one knew me, how could they know if I was dangerous or not?!"

More of the museum's inhabitants had joined the others outside the entryway, all of them feeling guilty as the young king's painful questioning reverberated off the walls of his tomb.

"What did I do wrong?! I just ... I-I ... I WANTED OUT!" Ahkmenrah all but screamed the last word, surely straining his throat, unable to stop the returning sobs to his chest. Larry pulled the boy back into his arms, rocking him back and forth. The pharaoh's hands gripped the night watchman shirt nearly tight enough to tear it. 

"They-they w-wanted me d-dead."

"That not true."

"They tr-trapped me-e in a co-coffin, they wa-anted m-me dead."

The poor boy was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, which would be awful to see. Larry pulled him tighter against him, his anguished cries muffled against his chest. The night guard looked out across the exhibit room, feeling worn out emotionally, and unmeaningly catching the eyes on one of the jackals who directed his line of sight to the doorway. Shadows of the exhibits who came to check on them, seemingly the near entirety of the museum, and hid against the wall showed plainly on the wall opposite them. Larry hoped Ahkmenrah hadn't noticed yet. 

"Nobody wanted you dead, Ahkmenrah. It was a mistake. They all feel guilty for it, even Cecil and the others feel guilty for it."

"Who?"

"You saw Cecil briefly. You didn't meet the others."

Ahkmenrah nodded against his chest, his cries beginning to die down. 

"I'm pathetic."

"We've already established that you're not."

"Yes, I am. I'm crying about a misunderstanding that happened in the past. There is nothing anybody can do about it now, and it's nobody's fault, and I'm crying about it."

Larry pulled back, holding Ahkmenrah a short ways away so he could look him in the eyes. "You. Are not. Pathetic."

"Do you actually think that, or are you saying it so I will stopping acting as such?" 

"I actually think that. Listen, Ahk, what you've been through is unimaginably horrible. Nobody deserves that. But, unfortunately, it happened. It happened to you. You have the right to be upset and, yes, the right to cry about it. And you have the right to feel angry. And the right to scream about it. You've been hurt over and over and that's not okay. And, right now, you're not okay.

"I can promise you something, though: nobody in the museum would have ever wanted any of that to happen to you. These people are family, your family, too, and they want you to feel like you're one of us. Some of them will never be able to forgive themselves for what they let happen to you. Myself included."

"I'd forgive them," Ahkmenrah said quietly. "I'm upset and confused, but ... I'd forgive them. And you. I don't blame you, and, even with my temper a moment ago ... I don't blame them, either. It was a mistake, I know, but ... I'm still hurt, but I'm not angry at anyone, just ... just at the circumstances."

Light murmuring took place among those gathered outside, but those inside the tomb didn't notice.

The night guard nodded at the pharaoh's words, then rose to his feet, offering a hand to help the pharaoh up. When they were both back on their feet, Ahkmenrah spoke again.

"Larry?"

"Yeah?"

"I just want to be okay again."

"I know, pal." Larry clasped the king's shoulder. 

The night watchman didn't expect the pharaoh to throw his arms around him, hugging him again. After being alone for as long as he had been, Ahkmenrah craved the embrace of another person. It helped that he felt safer in the night guard's arms ... he reminded him of his father, the father he got to see but no one else. 

Larry returned the hug, knowing how badly Ahkmenrah needed it. He waited for the Egyptian to let go first. 

"Better?"

The young pharaoh smiled, a real smile, and nodded. 

"How long have we been in here?"

Larry looked down at his watch. "An hour and a half, maybe a little more."

"That is a rather long time. It's a wonder the museum hasn't burned down without you."

It can't, Larry thought, it's outside the door.

"I have to say, Larry, I feel I shall be a lot more comfortable around you now that you've seen me completely lose my composure," Ahkmenrah joked half-heartedly, looking toward his crown up from the floor, but not picking it up. 

"Would you feel that way if anyone else saw that?"

The young king looked at him quizzically. "Why do you ask?"

Larry's eyes flicked inadvertently toward the entryway, giving away the hiding spot of all who stood outside the door. Ahkmenrah's eyes followed, now noticing the gathered inhabitants outside the tomb. 

Someone from outside, Larry thought it sounded like one of the vikings, said a little too loudly "shit, we're blown." The sound of everyone's foot steps as they all tried, and failed, to quietly scurry away at the same time was almost comical. 

The pharaoh groaned, sitting heavily on the sarcophagus lid and dropping his face into his hands. Not only had he completely broken down and humiliated himself twice in less than two hours, he'd done it in front of half the museum. Larry put a hand on his shoulder, opening his mouth the speak, but was cut off at the soft sound of Dexter's chattering. He looked over to see Sacagawea suddenly standing next to him, the monkey on her shoulder. 

The Shoshone woman let Dexter climb from her shoulder to Larry's, quietly sitting down next to Ahkmenrah. The king started slightly, unaware of her presence until that moment, but slumped over again after seeing the kind woman's face. 

Before the king could speak, Sacagawea wrapped her dark arms around him, gently bringing his head to her shoulder. Ahkmenrah didn't fight her, dropping his head easily to her shoulder and closing his eyes as she raked her fingers through his curls. She whispered something to the boy that the night guard couldn't hear, and the pharaoh nodded in reply. 

They sat like that for a long moment, Ahkmenrah just leaning against the woman, the Sacagawea speaking inaudibly to the young king, who just nodded. Larry felt like he was intruding, and backed away from the raised platform, shushing the monkey that continued chattering on his shoulder. He watched from a distance as the Shoshone placed a kiss onto the pharaoh's head. Sacagawea was once a parent, too, in her other life. Larry didn't know what he would do if he one day woke up in a world without Nicky. The pain she had to deal with everyday must have been nearly unbearable, missing her own son. 

Sacagawea was also one of the few who could better understand Ahkmenrah's fluctuating emotions. Though not locked in a casket, she was stuck inside her display for those fifty-four years, too. She said to Larry once, when he brought that up, that it was much different from what the "young one" had suffered, and, as was her way, said no more.

"Pharaoh?" a distinctive voice called from the doorway. "May I come in, son?"

The young pharaoh picked his head up from the Shoshone woman's shoulder, looking over where Larry stood a little ways away from the platform, Dexter resting on his arm. 

"It's up to you, Ahk," the night guard said, moving to lean on the edge of the sarcophagus. 

Ahkmenrah nodded to himself for a moment, before nodding to Teddy in the doorway. He was having trouble forming words. 

Teddy walked in, his pace purposeful, as always, yet slower than usual. When he reached the others, he pulled his spectacles from his face, dropping into a crouch in front of the king. 

"Pharaoh," the president began,"I know that saying thi—"

"I'm sorry, Teddy," Ahkmenrah said softly, fiddling with the edge of his cloak.

"Oh, Ahkmenrah," Teddy shook his head in disbelief.

The young king lifted his eyes from the floor to look at the man. "Yessir?"

The president sighed, rubbing a glove-clad hand over his face. "Ahkmenrah, you don't have to apologize to anyone. It is I who should be apologizing to you."

"Why?" The wide-eyed, innocent look on the boy's face pulled at Larry's heart strings. He was just so young. 

Larry desperately hoped that whatever came out of Teddy's mouth wasn't one of his riddles, followed by a quote about greatness. He was sure Ahkmenrah was exhausted, Larry himself was, and having to weave his mind around one of the president's many conundrums would do nothing to help to situation. 

"My dear boy," Teddy said, putting a firm hand on the young king's arm, "I am aware of the kind of position I hold here in the museum, over the other exhibits. I've played the role of advisor, not only for the night watchmen, but for this establishment's inhabitants. I should have been the one to investigate your tomb, long ago, and had I, I would have known you were of no danger."

"Teddy?" Ahkmenrah asked quietly. "Why did you deem me ... dangerous?"

The president sighed, pinching the bridge of if nose. 

"Y-you don't have to tell me."

"No, my boy, I'm merely ... organizing my thoughts. Ahkmenrah, the first night we came to life, I was confused and, well ... I was scared the whole museum was. None of this made any sense. It didn't take very long for Cecil to figure out that it must have been the Tablet that brought us to life, you and your possessions had arrived that very morning. 

"The Tablet obviously was very powerful. It's owner could have been even more so. We, meaning the three night watchmen and myself, decided it would be best for the museum not to let you out, as you may, like your Tablet, be a powerful force that we could not comprehend or control. We jumped to ridiculous conclusions. We were wrong, Ahkmenrah."

The pharaoh nodded, but not to Teddy and possibly not even in understanding. It was not for anything, really. He mumbled softly, "... I'm not dangerous ..."

"I know, son. I realize that what I have allowed to happen to you is unforgivable, but know that I am so incredibly sorry."

Ahkmenrah's tanned face scrunched up slightly, and he looked, for a moment, like he was going to scream. But the creases in his face smoothed out as the young king exhaled through his nose. 

"I'm ... I'm not angry with you, Teddy. I'm really not."

Teddy swallowed hard. "You have every right to be."

The pharaoh put a hand on the president's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "I'm not. I'm not angry at anybody. I'm just ... I'm confused and worried and frustrated with myself, so I've been overly-dramatic, and for that I apologize. I just hope to find a place among you here. To put everything else behind me, behind us." Ahkmenrah had begun to speak with the confidence of a true ruler, his back straight and voice clear. "There is no blame or judgement on my part to any of the other museum inhabitants or watchmen. I am freed now, and there is no use dwelling on a past where I wasn't. There is nothing that can be done to reverse what has happened. Please, no one is at fault, so no one needs forgiveness from me."

Whoa. Larry wasn't sure he could have handled that as graciously as the king did. A truly remarkable person was Ahkmenrah; the night guard wondered off-handedly how great a pharaoh he was in his day. He would have to research. 

"Pharaoh, you need not apologize to me," Teddy said. "You are far too kind, my friend. Far too kind."

Ahkmenrah smiled, Larry knew, at the use of the word "friend."

"Thank you, Teddy. Larry," the young king turned to the night watchmen, "is there anything else you wish to discuss tonight?"

The night guard could tell by the look in the pharaoh's eyes that he was dreading anymore conversation.

"Ah, no, Ahk." Teddy and Sacagawea took that as their cue to leave whilst mumbling their "see you in a few," the woman touched the king's shoulder as she stood earning herself a small smile, and Dexter leapt from Larry's shoulder and trailed behind them.

Larry looked down to his right, and saw Ahkmenrah's crown where it lay on the floor. He crouched and picked it up, then took it to where the young pharaoh was now standing, stretching slightly. 

"Here, Ahk."

Ahkmenrah took the crown with a grateful half-smile, his eyes warm. 

"Thank you," he said, placing his crown atop his head, instantly transforming into the proud ruler of Egypt, and, somehow, gaining seven years. The picture of confidence and maturity. 

"Hey, Ahk?" The night guard said. "I'm glad we talked, even though it wasn't fun."

The pharaoh nodded, wringing his hands a bit.

"I am, too. Even though it wasn't fun. I do wish to talk with you again, if that's alright, Larry?"

"Of course. Any time, I mean it."

King Ahkmenrah smiled, a real smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ MEEEEEE: One thing to keep in mind while reading this—Since Octavius and Jedediah are based on real people, but their dioramas depict scenes that would have happened years (probably) before their death, I don't believe they remember a) how they died and b) anything that happened in their lives after what is shown in the dioramas. (Ex: Octavius doesn't know he was father to Augustus) This goes for every exhibit in the museum, save for Ahk. 
> 
> BIG FAT WARNING—The views of the author are definitely NOT expressed in how Jedediah refers Chinese laborers working on the Transcontinental Railroad (Honestly, I've said nothing "wrong," just not politically correct, like, at all. I was trying to be somewhat historically accurate). Also, I'm from the South and travel a good bit, so I've had my fair share of people poking fun at my apparently *coughs* very strong "accent." I am NOT trying to make fun of anyone's accent, because I know that sucks; I was merely writing in dialect, which proves to be rather difficult (Kudos to Mark Twain). 
> 
> I know you guys are all awesome and probably wouldn't get upset, but, ya know, let's not take chances. :) I'll shut up now.

Larry had planned on reading his new Markus Zusak book when he noticed Ahkmenrah reading it over his shoulder. He handed the book over so that the young pharaoh could catch up to where he was, but within minutes the boy was so absorbed in it, sitting cross-legged in the swivel chair next to him and completely oblivious to the rest of the world, that the night guard didn't have the heart to interrupt him and ask for it back. He would have to bring some more books for him tomorrow night.

The watchman now found himself milling about the museum purposelessly, avoiding the paths of as many exhibits as he could, not feeling up to conversation. Erica's parents had been in town all week and dealing with them was so draining. Of course, they had to be in the apartment when he went to drop off Nicky, and, of course, they had to invite him (demand he come) to third-wheel at "linner" (as Don had called it, also known as "lupper") with the two of them, and Erica and Don. 

From there, he spent the evening being quite less than subtly berated by Erica's father for his every flaw: failing to hold a job, his inventions not be well received, the divorce that was, of course, all Larry's fault. And he could do nothing but just sit and take it, which he was further berated for; "spineless," he had been called. He was finally able to excuse himself for work and had come straight there in a less than wonderful mood. At least he had escaped "lupper."

Larry plopped down heavily onto the observation bench in the Hall of Miniatures. He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head for no real reason. The bench he was sat on was directly across from the Roman diorama. 

Miniature soldiers in red and silver marched about their small training field, and Roman women sat around a fountain folding laundry. A teacher lectured to a group of boys underneath a tiny oak tree. Looking about the exhibit, the night guard noticed that Octavius wasn't there. On a hunch, he walked to the neighboring Wild West diorama. After a moment of searching, his suspicion was confirmed. Jedediah wasn't in his display, either. They couldn't have gotten far, Larry knew, being as small as they were. Although it was also likely that someone brought them the bone-buggy (the name was a work in progress) and they'd driven it off somewhere.

The night watchman hadn't seen them in the lobby, so they must have gone further into the museum. He began to walk down the corridor toward the American History exhibition room. 

Larry wasn't sure why he was after the little men, he just was. He didn't think they'd mind. 

Before long, the bone-mobile (another option) came into view parked outside a small alcove off the South American hallway. Peeking around the corner, the night guard saw the pair of miniatures sitting across from each other on the windowsill. He had to stay very still to make out what they were saying.

"You've been quiet, Jedediah."

"Yeah?"

"You're never quiet."

"Jus' gotta lot on my mind, Ockie. Did you Romans e'er have flapjacks? I tell you sumthin', Betsy make the best durn flapjacks you e'er taste in yer life! I have her whip us up some later t'night, she won't mind it a bit."

Octavius looked at his friend with unamusement. 

"You're changing the subject."

"What if I don't wanna talk about it, Octavius?" Jedediah snapped, crossing his arms and staring out the window. 

The Roman was persistent, however, and quite patient, not to mention brave. One had to be, when the general of an army. So the cowboy's hostility did little to faze him. He'd seen much worse. 

"I think you should talk about it."

"Funny, I don't really care what you think."

"We both know that is a lie."

Jedediah sighed, pulling his black hat from his head. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, replacing that hat, before speaking to the general. 

"Yer gettin' cocky, Ockie." Octavius smirked at him. "It's just ... stupid."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"I miss my girls."

"Your girls?" The general repeated, stunned. "You had children, Jedediah?"

The cowboy laughed heartily. "Me? Havin' kids? Nah, my sisters an' my mama. My girls.

"Laurie, she was my ol'er sister, all thin an' tall. Just 'bout as tall as me. She was married to a friend o' mine, Lil' William O'Brien. Irishman; a good feller. She was taller than 'im. Smarter than 'im, too, but Laurie was smarter than e'erbody. She always wanted to start a schoolhouse fer the boys on the lines who couldn't read er write. Laurie was kind like that. We jus' ne'er had no money fer that. Or'erseer didn't want educated Chinamen, neither. She would'a been a good schoolteacher.

"My lil' sister's name was Kitty. E'erybody alway said we look alike, but it's not true." Jedediah smirked. "She was purdier. Fourteen years old an' she'd already done stole half the hearts o' the men in town. Kitty was a sweet lil' thing, but hell if she weren't opinionated. Made her big brother proud.

"Mama, well, she was Mama. An' she weren't just me an' the girls mama. Mama was e'erybody's mama. She took care o' e'er person in town, when they wanted it or not. She had the biggest heart fer people, even them immer-grants. She'd open up our kitchen shutters e'eryday and stand there handin' out coffee to all the workers. When we had the money, she liked to feed e'eryone, too."

Octavius processed that information. He held in the urge to ask if they were in his exhibit, because they obviously weren't. There were very few people in the Roman diorama that had actually existed at some point in history, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to think it might have been the same in the Western one. 

"And what of your father?"

An unreadable look came across the cowboy's face. He spun the spur on his boot with his hand, refusing to make eye-contact. 

"I dunno. Walked out after Kitty was born. Ne'er came back."

"I ... I am sorry, my friend."

"I don't really care. About 'im. I don't miss 'im. I was grown then, had to be the man o' the house for the girls."

"I understand."

"No, you don't."

"... I comprehend."

Jedediah shook his head.

"You don't get it. It ain't fair."

The general ignored the first part. "What isn't fair?"

"Waking up here like this. No family, the only people I knew was the mayor an' 'is wife. And I wish I didn't know 'em. All these people I didn't know 'spectin' me to lead 'em."

"I do understand, Jedediah."

His next words came out much more harshly than he had intended. 

"You done told me before, you didn't have no family. You don't get it, so stop sayin' you do!"

The look of hurt on Octavius' face instantly made the cowboy want to eat his words, but he knew that wasn't possible. The words were gone, and he had already upset his friend. Damn his quick temper. 

Octavius didn't give Jedediah the chance to apologize, which would have been his next words. 

"Do you really think I don't know exactly how you feel?" the general snapped, dark eyes hard and sharp as his voice. "I did have a life, you know, before the Tablet. You are correct, I had no 'family,' but I did have people I cared about. You aren't the only one, Jedediah. You aren't the only one who woke up alone, who woke up with a group of men who expected you to display leadership. At least you only have those few railway workers, I have an entire legion of men I had to get in line then take care of. How daft could you be to sit there and tell me I don't know your troubles? You must be an absolute idiot."

Jedediah shrunk back, slightly stunned. He had always been one to complain, all the time and about everything, and he hated that about himself. And Octavius was the opposite. He never complained, ever. It was an unfortunate truth: people would always expect more from those who never complained. And that was true of the Roman, so many depended on him and confided in him, Jedediah included, that no one ever considered the hardships the general had to deal with himself. While those people weren't entirely to blame, Octavius really didn't want them to worry about his problems, it was mainly their fault, Jedediah knew that.

"Geez, Okie. I'm an idiot. An' I'm real sorry, pal. I know you got troubles, but ... I don't know, I just talk 'bout my troubles so much that I ferget."

As good natured as Octavius was, he shook the frown from his face, replacing it with his usual smile. 

"All is well, my friend. I didn't mean to upset you."

Jedediah started to nod, but froze after the words computed. 

"Upset me?"

"... Yes."

"I aughta slap you."

Now the general was throughly confused. He often was when it came to the cowboy. 

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said you were sorry for upsetting me."

"I was—I mean, am."

Jedediah could feel his face turning red. He really needed to work on his anger management. 

"Dammit, Octavius, why are you sorry for makin' me 'upset?' You can be angry at me, ya know, when I say stupid things that hurt yer feelin's 'cause I cain't control my tongue!"

What in Hades?

"What are you on about? Do you want me to be angry with you?"

"Yes! No. Gahdammit!"

This was exasperating. 

At some point in time the pair had leapt to their feet and were slowly advancing on each other, getting right up into each other's faces.

"By the gods, Jedediah, I don't want to be angry with you."

"Why not?!"

"Because I spent fifty-four years being angry at you!"

"Okay, but you're angry right now?!"

"Yes!"

"Then be angry at me!"

"I'm SICK of being ANGRY!" Here came the rant.

"Every night," Octavius began, wagging a finger at the cowboy, "every night, we fought with each other because we were angry and confused, and I don't want that to happened again! We weren't friends then, but we are now, and I want to preserve that friendship so desperately. I don't want our fighting to send us back to that time, which was, literally, a week ago! We could do nothing but offend each other, for five whole decades! No peace treaty or truce ever stood between us, and, ultimately, our people." The general back down, his voice turning weary. "I don't want us to go back to before."

Jedediah nodded, processing the information.

"It's really my fault all the durn treaties turned to shit."

"I played a large role in it as well. I did invade on your land."

"I was real disrespectful to yer people fer no good reason. I said a lot of things 'bout yer religion I shouldn't've."

"I sent far too many spies to your diorama."

"Stole lots of yer swords an' helmets."

"I damaged many of your people's possessions."

"Same 'ere. We're better off as friends."

"I agree."

"Octavius," Jedediah said, pulling his hat from his head. He did so when he wanted to be sincere, the Roman had discovered. "You ain't gotta worry 'bout e'erthing goin' back to the way it was back when we were fightin' an' all. It won't, 'cause we are friends now. That's not sayin' we ain't ne'er gonna fight none whatsoe'er, we will sometimes, but it's not gonna start a war. We're past that."

"I do believe we are." Octavius smiled at his friend, clasping his shoulder. Jedediah mirrored him exactly before the two sat down again, Jedediah replacing his hat.

"Octavius?"

"Yes?"

"You can let off some steam e'ery now an' again. Ya don't 'ave to carry the weight of the world an' e'erbody else's problems 'round all the time."

"I will ... I will try. Not to."

"Good."

The pair fell back into smalltalk. After awhile, a puzzled look suddenly crossed the cowboy's face. 

"I know you told me before, Okie, but ... you really didn't 'ave no family?"

The general shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat slightly. He'd been able to avoid any sort of personal questioning thus far, but he couldn't just not answer his friend, and he also couldn't answer dishonestly. 

"I ... no, I didn't, not really. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father died when I was fifteen, fighting in Germania. I hardly remembered him, though, honestly, when I got the news. He was almost never around when I was very young and completely out of my life after I was ... I don't know, eight or nine. I joined the army the next year and worked my way up through the ranks. I never married, as far as I know, I just didn't have the time while serving in the Legion, and never had any children. I didn't have any family. Which is why I treasure the one developed with the others in the museum so dearly."

"Yer a good talker, Octavius."

"What?" The Roman frowned. "I meant what I said."

Jedediah grinned, kicking at his friend's boot. "I know, par'ner. You and e'erbody else are my family, too. Just, the way you say what yer thinkin' so well, it's impressive. I cain't do that."

Octavius rolled his eyes. 

"Jedediah, you nearly always say everything on your mind." 

"True. But not as ... eloquently as you do."

"'Eloquently?'" 

"M'hm."

The general smirked deviously. 

"I didn't know you knew such big words, friend!"

Jedediah replied with mock enthusiasm, "I know other big words, too, Ockie-face! Like 'jackass.'"

The miniatures laughed; Jedediah's wittiness managing to elicit a breathy chuckle from the night guard around the corner. He really liked the duo. 

Despite being small in stature, the little men had very good hearing, and the watchman's small noise did not get by their ears.

"Ya know, somethin', Octavius, I think there's a spy down yonder," Jed said loudly to attract Larry's attention and motioned down the small hallway. 

The watchman grinned, rounding the corner. "A spy?"

"But of course!" Octavius exclaimed. "The night watchman is collecting the secrets of those he is sworn to protect. What he could do with that information is unthinkable."

"Really, guys?" the night guard began. "Do you think there'd be much of a reward for the thoughts of three-inch-tall, plastic miniatures?"

"Don't you go on bein' hurtful, Gigantor!"

"I'm not trying to be ... hurtful, Jed. I'm really just trying to get to know everyone better. On a personal level, not just as ... acquaintances."

"As friends?" the general supplied. 

"Yeah. Because, after all we've been through, we're friends, now, right?"

"O' course, Gigantor! We're close as kin!" The cowboy slung an arm around the Roman to make his point. "But friends don't gen'rly spy on other friends, do they, Okie?"

"No, Jedediah, I don't believe they do."

Larry rolled his eyes. "I apologize."

"We forgive you, Larry."

"Ish."

"Awesome. Well, I've intruded long enough. I'll let you get back to ..."

"Conversing."

"... Conversing. Right."

"Oh, Larry?"

"Yeah."

"You can come converse with us sometime, too."

"I'll take you up on that."

Larry walked away from the small men, chuckling slightly. He decided to go see how Lewis and Clark were doing with their museum mapping. Sacagawea had suggested it to them a few nights earlier, and it occupied most of their time. It was coming along nicely.

"Octavius?" Jedediah turned to his friend as the night guard left.

"Yes?"

"I'm real sorry. Losin' yer folks so young like that; it's not fair."

The general gave him a small smile. 

"Unfortunately, my friend, life isn't fair. But I am alright, now. I wasn't always, but time has managed to turn things around for me."

"Yer way too positive about everythin', you know that?"

"A character flaw, truly," the Roman deadpanned. 

"Smartass. I jus' wanna know how you stay so happy all the dang time."

"I make the choice to be happy."

"How?"

"I just ... do. I see no reason to live my life focused on sorrows and difficulties. I believe in spending my energy on finding the good in life. And if I can't find any 'good,' I create it. Why would anyone want to spend their time worrying over what makes them miserable, especially when they can fix the miseries themselves?"

Jedediah smiled crookedly. "I'm a fairly negative person."

"I've noticed."

"An' yer too positive."

"Matter of opinion."

"Shuddup. I'm tryin' to say, we make a purdy good team."

"We do."

The two sat in silence for a moment, before Octavius spoke again.

"Jedediah?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happened to all those swords and helmets you stole?"

"I'll ne'er tell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how short this was, but I'm already working on Chapter 3!
> 
> Seriously, though, I need help coming up with ideas for what to call the remote control car that Rexy's bone is attached to.


End file.
